Travel poems
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A Mans Wooing
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
YOU said, last night, you did not think
In all the world of men
Was one true lover--true alike
In deed and word and pen;--
A Castaway
© Augusta Davies Webster
So long since:
and now it seems a jest to talk of me
as if I could be one with her, of me
who am…… me.
January Morning
© William Carlos Williams
I have discovered that most of
the beauties of travel are due to
the strange hours we keep to see them:
The Edge Of Town
© Henry Herbert Knibbs
And many a one of the wights that roam,
Has stopped at my house and found a home:
And many a tale of these outland folk
Has furnished a tang to the evening smoke,
While the stars shone down on our dwelling-place,
And the moon peered in at a dusky face.
The Innkeepers Wife
© Clive Sansom
Well, I must go in. There are meals to serve.
Join us there, Carpenter, when youve had enough
Of cattle-company. The world is a sad place,
But wine and music blunt the truth of it.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Student's Tale; Emma and Eginhard
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Smaragdo, Abbot of St. Michael's, said,
With many a shrug and shaking of the head,
Surely some demon must possess the lad,
Who showed more wit than ever schoolboy had,
And learned his Trivium thus without the rod;
But Alcuin said it was the grace of God.
Summer Streams
© Bliss William Carman
ALL day long beneath the sun
Shining through the fields they run,
Singing in a cadence known
To the seraphs round the throne.
The Indications
© Walt Whitman
The singers do not beget-only the POET begets;
The singers are welcom'd, understood, appear often enough-but rare
has the day been, likewise the spot, of the birth of the maker
of poems, the Answerer,
Helian
© Georg Trakl
In the spirits solitary hours
It is lovely to walk in the sun
Along the yellow walls of summer.
Quietly whisper the steps in the grass; yet always sleeps
The son of Pan in the grey marble.
Talent And Genius
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
I.
ON the high road travelling steady,
Sure, alert, and ever ready,
Prompt to seize all fit occasion,
Hypotheses Hypochondriacae
© Charles Kingsley
And should she die, her grave should be
Upon the bare top of a sunny hill,
Windsor Forest
© Alexander Pope
Thy forests, Windsor! and thy green retreats,
At once the Monarch's and the Muse's seats,
Book Second [School-Time Continued]
© William Wordsworth
THUS far, O Friend! have we, though leaving much
Unvisited, endeavoured to retrace
Don Juan: Canto The First
© George Gordon Byron
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Recalling War
© Robert Graves
Entrance and exit wounds are silvered clean,
The track aches only when the rain reminds.
The one-legged man forgets his leg of wood
The one-armed man his jointed wooden arm.
The Borough. Letter XI: Inns
© George Crabbe
All the comforts of life in a Tavern are known,
'Tis his home who possesses not one of his own;
And to him who has rather too much of that one,
'Tis the house of a friend where he's welcome to
